"This is our recreation room, sir. Cozy enough," said our informant with a sniff, looking about him. We all stood silent for a bit as Solar Pons paced around the room, his sharp glance appearing to miss nothing.
He stopped before the lockers with a grunt and produced his powerful pocket magnifying lens.
"Which of these is Hardcastle's?"
"Number four, sir," said Hodgson, with a puzzled look on his face.
"It is unlocked?"
"Certainly, sir. None of them lock."
"I just wondered," said Solar Pons blandly, "as I see this one in the corner has a length of wire twisted through, the hasp."
"That's mine, sir," replied Hodgson, a flush appearing on his features. "I am in charge here, you see, sir."
"And you prefer a little privacy. Of course, Hodgson. I am not implying any criticism. All the same, I would like each of the lockers opened."
Hodgson glanced at Superintendent Heathfield for a moment and then went forward with ill grace, untwisting the strands of wire. In the meantime Pons had opened Hardcastle's locker and was busy with its contents.
"Where is the material you removed from here, Superintendent?"
"It has been sealed in Sir Clive's office, Mr. Pons." Pons nodded.
"It is of no matter, really. Paint, an axe, gloves and other items, I believe."
"Yes, Mr. Pons. I have the list here."
Pons studied it in silence, then went swiftly around to the other lockers, cursorily examining their contents.
"We tested for prints, Mr. Pons," Heathfield volunteered.
"But found nothing useful," said Solar Pons with a thin smile. "Because everyone who works in or comes and goes from the Lion House has been along this aisle or put their hands against these lockers from time to time."
"Exactly, Mr. Pons. The whole situation was too confused and we could read nothing from it."
"I am not surprised."
Hodgson had opened the door of his locker now and stood aside. As he did so, a small piece of pasteboard fluttered to the ground.
"Allow me."
Solar Pons had stooped and picked it up before the other could move.
"What a charming young girl."
He held up the picture between thumb and forefinger, watching the slow flush that suffused the keeper's features. "My young lady, sir."
Hodgson took the picture from Pons and put it quickly in his pocket.
"My congratulations."
Pons glanced swiftly into the interior of the locker, which contained nothing of any great interest so far as I could make out.
"Thank you. Hodgson. I do not think there is anything further for the moment."
And with that he led the way to the door that connected with the open air.
6
"Well, Parker, what are your views on the affair?"
I braced myself in the interior of the cab, which had just lurched to a shuddering stop in a traffic jam, and regarded Pons quizzically. It was a cold, misty morning, though the rain had stopped, and we were on our way to the Zoological Gardens for a conference with Sir Clive and Heathfield.
Pons had remained closeted with Heathfield and the zoo officials until a late hour the previous evening, collating testimony from the various zoo staff, and I must confess I had dozed off in my corner of the office in which I had begged to be left. Pons had been in an extremely pensive mood on our way back to Praed Street, and his uncommunicativeness had prevailed throughout breakfast this morning so that I was pleased to see his normal mood restored.
"I am all at sea, Pons."
"You do yourself an injustice, Parker. Pray apply your mind to it."
I settled myself more comfortably in my corner as our driver started off again at a more decorous rate, and stared at Pons through the haze of pipe smoke.
"There is a good deal here I do not understand."
Solar Pons smiled quizzically.
"Ah, then we are at one, Parker. It is indeed a fascinating problem. Or rather problems. Though I am on the way to solving one, the major eludes me."
I stared at my companion in astonishment "Indeed, Pons. It sounds remarkable."
"It is remarkable, Parker. And quite unique. And if I do not miss my guess, we have not yet gotten properly into the case."
I fear my mouth must have dropped open, but I did not have time for further talk, as the cab was drawing up in front of a pleasant, red-brick house.
"Here we are, Parker. Sir Clive's private residence."
The handsome mansion before us had tall iron gates separating it from the Inner Circle, and as we walked up the paved path between twin lawns, we could see that another path led away to another iron gate at the rear, which evidently connected with the zoo grounds.
"Grace and favor, Pons." I remarked.
Solar Pons smiled thinly.
"You have hit it exactly, Parker. Such sinecures are apt to lead to jealousy in the somewhat esoteric world of zoology as much as elsewhere."
We had stopped at the imposing porch, where Pons rang the bell, and I stared at him quizzically.
"You are not suggesting that a professional rival is attempting to discredit Sir Clive's direction of the Zoological Gardens?"
"Such things have happened before, Parker. Young Hardcastle may have gotten into deeper waters than he imagines. However, I should be able to set his mind at rest when we meet later this morning. He resumes his duties today, does he not?"
"Thanks to you, Pons. But will it not provide the real criminal — for these are criminal acts going on here — with a golden opportunity?"
"There is method in my madness, Parker."
And with that I had to be content. A parlor maid speedily showed us to a light-paneled, pleasant room on the ground floor, where Sir Clive and Heathfield were already ensconced. The Head Keeper, Stebbins, evidently ill at ease in such surroundings, stood awkwardly on the rug in front of the fire and twisted his peaked cap in his hands.
As we came in, a fourth man I had not seen rose from a large wing chair set next to the fire.
"It is outrageous!" he spluttered. "It is discrediting the Society!"
He paused as he became aware of our approach.
"This is hardly the time or the place for such a discussion, Jefferies," said Sir Clive blandly. "We will continue it some other time, if you please."
The tall man in the dark frock coat and with the white mane of hair that made him look like a musician bowed stiffly.
"This is a colleague of mine on the Council of the Zoological Society," said the President with a thin-lipped smile. "Gordon Jefferies. Mr. Solar Pons. Dr. Lyndon Parker." Jefferies bowed icily, raking us with insolent eyes.
"Your servant, gentlemen. Good-day, Mortimer."
He nodded brusquely and swept out, followed by the ironic eyes of Sir Clive.
"A detestable man, Mr. Pons," he muttered sotto voce. "But brilliant in his field. He has many enemies."
"Indeed," said Solar Pons, with a shrewd look at our host. "So I should imagine if he carries on in such a manner. What was the trouble?"
"My handling of the current crisis in the Society's affairs," said Sir Clive. "Though to tell the truth he is put out because he feels he has not been kept fully informed by the Council. But he has made large donations to funds and so feels he partly owns the Zoological Gardens."
He chuckled dryly and seemed in a jocular mood, despite the obvious altercation that had just taken place. He looked a dapper figure in his well-cut gray suit, and I saw that Pons was studying him carefully beneath his apparently casual manner.